Where The Compass Points
by AshleyBudrick
Summary: One-shot. Revised. Post-AWE. Captain Sparrow's compass doesn't lead him to the Black Pearl nor the Fountain of Youth. Instead, his little boat winds up on an island, with a familiar inhabitant he could never forget, but never claim as his own.


**Pirates of the Caribbean - Where the Compass Points - [One Shot - Revised 2012]**

* * *

The wind whipped and rippled the sails of the small boat, equipped with just one mast and enough space for one man. A black flag, bearing a skull adorned with a bandana, and the outline of a sparrow, faded by the salty air and passing of time, fluttered endlessly. The boat rocked in the churning Caribbean waves, but the pirate plunked down on the bottom of the boat hardly acknowledged it. Hell, he felt more comfortable on the sea than on land. The air was thick with a strong salty odor, one he had only come to love with every fiber of his being. The scent meant the sea. The sea meant freedom – in its every possible meaning. He was at its mercy, although if one were to ask him if he ever feared the sea, he'd flash them a silver-toothed grin and declare that instead he and the sea were lovers of sorts. His love for it pulsed strongly through his veins, fuelled by each beat of his heart and each breath he sucked into his lungs. And if one were to question him if he dare love anything else, he would deny it as if it were an absurd question to be asked of him. Oh, and rum, he would point out, always the rum. His breath often reeked of it, and it often too would be guaranteed to be pulsing through his body.

The sea was vast and so was his desire for adventure. More times than not, he found it with little effort. It was a never-ending thirst, each encounter with it left him parched as opposed to quenched. It was much like an addiction, but also had characteristics of a natural instinct. In a little dingy such as the one he currently found himself in, or in a large three-mast ship such as the Black Pearl, he belonged on the sea. Although he had a preference of course – the latter option better suited a pirate.

Captain Jack Sparrow was on the hunt, again. In his outstretched grimy hand, he held his compass, battered and incrusted with sand and dirt. Barbossa had left him with that, and it was about all. The Pearl had been snatched away from him again. Although not superbly fazed by the situation, it indeed felt like a part of him was missing. After all, he considered the Pearl as the flagship of his idea of freedom. Although he was free as any man could be floating around the Caribbean in the little dingy - the name the cursed little boat deserved - it just wasn't the same without the Pearl.

Instinctively, two main goals were etched on Jack's agenda (not that he really had one, of course). Number one, get the Pearl back from Barbossa – again – and two, set out on his voyage in search of the Fountain of Youth. He could not do one without the other, that was as plain as day.

Jack's dark brown eyes flicked up from the compass to scan the horizon, and to his surprise, off in the distance there was a long, strip of land. White sand contrasted harshly with the black rocks. Clusters of palm trees could be seen even from the current distance. A glance downward proved that his compass was pointing directly towards the little spit of land. Immediately, he was struck with an odd feeling. Land? Surely the Black Pearl wouldn't be beached there. He couldn't see anything that resembled a ship. Jack frowned, and shook his compass, but the arrow couldn't be budged.

"Alright then, due course, right 'head," he mumbled out loud to himself. Not taking his eyes off the island he fumbled around beside him, grasped the neck of a rum bottle. Jerking the cork free with his teeth and spitting it carelessly aside, he took a swig, letting the spicy burn of Jamaican rum slide down his throat. This island could be the location of the Fountain of Youth, or the Black Pearl, or both, for all he knew. The only thing he hoped that his compass hadn't deceived him.

Jack leaped out of his boat and landed in the shallow turquoise water of the surf, making a little splash. He tugged the boat in towards shore, until he had it nestled far enough inland so it couldn't float away on him. He took off his heavy overcoat and hat, tossing them into the boat. He wiped his sweaty face with a dirty sleeve, sloshing out of the water and up onto the beach. He took a look around. There were mostly the severe-looking black rocks, a few patches of sea-grass and scattered coconut trees. From what he guessed, this was a simple island, insignificant and uninhabited. A good place for the Fountain of Youth, perhaps. He had a feeling in his gut, though, that it wasn't so.

Stubbornly ignoring the negativity, Jack whipped out his compass once more and began walking in the direction the arrow pointed. It quivered back and forth slightly, but the heading was clear. It led him away from the beach, heading inland. The island seemed empty, abandoned – or perhaps it had never contained any significance to anyone. The only sounds were his footsteps making soft noises in the sand and occasional twittering chatter from tropical birds.

He turned a corner around a large rock and through the trees, he could see beach. This island was small. _Really_ small. Perhaps the feeling in his gut was right, after all. Perhaps what he wanted lay beyond this island. This spot of sand contained perhaps a buried stash of rum, but it certainly not the Black Pearl or the Fountain of Youth.

Jack let out a little growl of frustration, and pressed on in the other direction. He hadn't seen every inch of this island yet. The palms grew denser as he trudged on, following the route the compass pressed him in. He pushed through some bushes, and came to a clearing. The beach again was visible through the trees, but that isn't what caught his eye. There were several homes, sloppily made out of wood, grass and mud. To his surprise he observed a chicken strut across the clearing, kicking up sand with each step, clucking away to itself. From within one of the huts he heard animal noises, snorting of pigs and bleats of goats.

So, someone had, or did live on this little island, and presumably well, with a talent for agriculture. Jack's free hand went to his pistol tucked in his belt, and he walked further into the cluster of huts. No one appeared. The animals chattered on within the hut, the chicken mulled bravely about his feet. Pressing on towards the beach, Jack still didn't see anyone. Not a sign.

However, he noticed a vessel, larger than his own, was floating in the water, tied to a sloppy-looking dock made out of pieces of scrap wood.

Curiosity overwhelmed him and he stepped up onto the dock. Since there was no one here, perhaps he could take this ship as his own. Examining it, it did appear to be in better shape.

"Get away from that boat!"

He was surprised when he heard a sharp female voice from behind him. A smirk crawled onto his lips, as he instinctively cocked his pistol and whipped around to face his challenger.

He froze as he took in the woman's familiar, beautiful face. Her brown eyes took on an expression of shock, her mouth fell open. Elizabeth Swann was clearly as surprised as he.

"Jack," She said softly, looking him up and down.

"Elizabeth, darling," Jack smiled, lowering his pistol, "What a surprise it is to see you here. Still feisty as ever, I see."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, still standing rooted to the spot.

"My… compass," Jack said, looking down at it, "Led me here…"

He paused. It was pointing right at Elizabeth. He looked up, and his eyes met hers. Elizabeth seemed somewhat less than when he had last seen her. She looked thin and exhausted. Despite her scraggily blonde hair, her dirt covered face, and tattered clothes, she was still as beautiful as she had ever been.

"It led you here?" Elizabeth smiled, seeming like she didn't want to believe it, "Why, there's nothing here on this land… just…"

"You," Jack finished her sentence for her.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and looked out at sea before looking back at him nervously.

"It is good to see you again," Jack smirked, flipping the compass closed and tucking it into his belt. She nodded in response, and beneath the sweat and dirt on her face, Jack thought he could see hints of a blush, although he didn't dare mention it.

When Elizabeth didn't say anything, he continued on what seemed to be starting as a one-sided conversation.

"I suppose it has been hard here without Will," Jack said the first thing that came into his mind, although he didn't want to know how much heartbreak she was going through. It was the least of his worries. Whatever kept her tied to a man she wouldn't see but every ten years was a mystery to him.

"Yes," She answered, as she and Jack stood side by side looking out at the sea, but Jack barely heard the answer. His heart was thumping in his ears as his thoughts were a busy turmoil… about the compass' direction, where it had led him… this small island, it had led him to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth flicked her eyes to Jack's face, and saw his expression was one of deep thought.

"You must be wondering why I've stayed here," Elizabeth said, turning and walking back to one of the huts she called her own, "Why I've felt the need to be true to Will, even when he has, and will be gone for so long."

Jack followed her inside, numbly, pondering over the compass even still. Why had it led him here? Did Elizabeth know about the location of the Pearl or where to find the Fountain of Youth? She must, for why else would he find himself here at this moment. The compass took him to what he wanted most, it always had. Not once had it led him to a trivial spot. Not ever.

When he glanced around the small hut, it was nothing special, nothing fancy. Ironic considering he still half-expected Elizabeth to be donning an elaborate corseted gown, speaking to him with a posh ignorance of the pirate world. There were a few blankets and dried palm leaves on the floor where she slept every night, the very few belongings she owned, some fruit in a wooden basket, and a chest Jack had no trouble recognizing. He did a double take when he realized what it was and what it contained – the heart of Will Turner.

A memory struck him of Bootstrap Bill, hovering over the body of his son, amidst the hell of the raging maelstrom – the pained and wild look on his face as he produced the dagger - raising it high above his head, and with only a moment's hesitation, bringing the blade down into Will's chest.

"No," Jack snapped from his thoughts, finally answering Elizabeth. She turned back to look at him quizzically as he continued to stare at the chest. "I've just seen why."

Elizabeth glanced at the chest and seemed very uncomfortable all at once. She stammered with her words.

"O-Oh," She paced about the small space, clenching her jaw, wringing her hands like some nervous old woman, "Yes… well… I…"

"Elizabeth," Her name flew almost too comfortably from his mouth. She paused and looked at him. He saw what looked to be tears shimmering in her big brown eyes, understanding her feelings. He continued, "You don't need to be upset, love."

Elizabeth felt her heart, long since drained of the thing called affection, flutter at Jack's words. How she had always enjoyed it when he called her "love". He was right. She didn't need to be upset around him. It was hardly the right thing to do at all. Suddenly, she felt a burning question in her mind, and without thinking, she blurted it out:

"What have you come for?" She raised her voice, sharpening the tone with the needed emotion.

Jack took a step toward her, looking down into her eyes, his calloused hand coming up to her soft face.

"I suppose… the thing I want most… in this world," He answered, half-shocked at the words as he spoke them. Of course, why hadn't he realized it before?

Elizabeth's eyes widened as they searched his in disbelief. She seemed delighted for a moment, but there was a daunting sign of something more, something…

"Jack… I…" She began, but he cut her off, without thinking. In a split second his lips were over hers with an almost crushing pressure of need. He felt her stiffen, but in a moment, return the kiss. Not parting his lips from hers, he pushed her back against the wall of the hut, deepening the kiss, realizing he must possess what he wanted most – to get it out of the way, so he could continue the search for his ship and the fountain. He became so lost in the moment, that he almost didn't notice Elizabeth's hands firmly on his chest, attempting to shove him away. She broke free of his kiss, smothering any passion that had begun to rise between them.

"No," she muttered, shying away, "Jack, please." He took a step back, staring at her. A tear noticeably slid down her cheek.

"I have already the heart of one man. I can't have another."

Jack, despite the sweet kiss just seconds ago he experienced, turned rigid in his spot as her words hit him like a slap across the face. He glanced at the chest, his love he realized he had for her slowly melting into anger.

"Ten years he will be gone," Jack growled lowly, "You can't give me just one little minute?"

"Jack, please, try to understand," Elizabeth pleaded, shaking her head.

"I can't help where my bloody compass points," Jack softened a little, but the flames of anger were still burning, "At least you can take that into play…"

"I know; more than anything I know, and I wish it could be different," Elizabeth whispered, "But perhaps your compass will change when you realize that the one thing you want most can never be yours." She placed her hand on her stomach, and hesitated for a moment, "I'm with child, Jack. Will's child. Even if we both desire it so horribly, I can _never_ be yours. Not now."

Jack nodded in response, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and he turned to leave.

"You still have a place in my heart," Elizabeth said lowly, almost where she couldn't be heard, "You always will." It was getting hard for her to speak, for she was almost choking on the sobs that were beginning to shake her body.

"You own mine," Jack whispered, and he turned to look at her one last time, before he left the hut and began walking back to his boat. His heart was pumping wildly, and he felt something he not often felt… the mysterious emotion that was sadness. He couldn't look back, couldn't turn back. He couldn't have her now, not with Will's child inside her. He must get to his boat and leave, put it all behind him and forget that Elizabeth Turner even existed.

* * *

In the hut, Elizabeth had been reduced to hysteric sobbing. Her hormones had been topsy-turvy since she had realized she was pregnant, and it didn't help her one bit. She could never be his. The little life inside her belly determined that much. It mattered none how much she cared for him, it mattered none how she had been overcome with pleasure when he had kissed her just moments ago. Jack Sparrow could never be hers, she could never be his. There had been a time where it could've been possible, and to think of it only heightened Elizabeth's misery. Why did he have to show up on her island? Out of all the places in the Caribbean, Jack had wound up here, his compass had lead him to her. She had been fine with solitude, fine with the idea of being pregnant. There were rum runners who came by every couple of weeks that so kindly brought her anything she needed from Tortuga. They never stayed long, and she had been fine with it.

Ten years seemed like a sentence now, even though she knew she would be overwhelmed with the love for her baby once it was born. Ten years to wait, and for what?

"I love him," Elizabeth muttered; she had pressed her face into the mass of blankets on the floor, "I love him. I love him. Oh Lord, no, I love him." She hated the words as they spilled from her mouth but knew there wasn't anything to be done. A part of her wanted to get up, to run from the hut and plead for him to stay. She knew he wouldn't. Like so many ambitions in her life, it was a dream to never come true.

* * *

Jack had reached the beach, shoved out his boat into the water and jumped in. The waves embraced it and the boat began floating away from shore. He sat, staring broodily at the island as it grew slowly further and further away. Jack brought his hand up to his face when he felt something wet rolling down his cheek. He brushed it away and looked at his fingers that were blackened by the kohl from his eyes, then up at the clear, blue sky.

The overwhelmed and confused man, in a state of desperation, gulped down the rest of his rum, knowing soon it would lull him to an intoxicated, hazy paradise.

He snapped open the compass, and watched as the arrow settled in a direction… that was not the island. Just like Elizabeth had said.

_"Perhaps your compass will change when you realize that the one thing you want most can never be yours."_

And it was true.

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**A/N: **This story was posted several years ago, but I've been finding time to improve and lengthen my stories. Hope you enjoy! - AB


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